


Five Times Clay Kaczmarek Lied and Said He Was Okay (And the One Time He Didn’t)

by amongthieves



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot, lots and lots of angst, posted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amongthieves/pseuds/amongthieves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clay knows he's not okay, but he doesn't want to burden Lucy with it until it's almost too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Clay Kaczmarek Lied and Said He Was Okay (And the One Time He Didn’t)

There are so many ideas, so many words spinning around in his head, it’s hard to separate them from his own, and from the memories.

Sometimes in the morning, with his arm draped over Lucy’s waist, he doesn’t register that he’s alive - that he’s breathing in his own time, and not some other life. That the woman’s bare and pale back in front of him isn’t a lady from the 15th century, but instead his savior. Completely his and no one else’s.

“Clay, you don’t look too well. Do you want to lay down?”

“No. I’m okay.” It’s always three little words; first a statement of denial, then the pronoun and it’s wrapped up neatly in a confirmation that yes, he is quite alright. This is also a lie. There’s a kiss, sometimes a hug, and it’s left to settle. Lucy knows not to prod. Not after everything he’s been though.

It’s quiet now. His fear is static; a quiet mumble in the back of his head. The voices are louder, but she doesn’t need to know that. He’s okay.

He’s okay.

But when Lucy comes home one day, talking about a man named Desmond Miles, he’s not too sure anymore. Her eyes light up and she talks about all the neat tricks he did at the bar, and mid-way through her story she tells Clay that he should have been there, that he would have had fun, then continues to talk about the stories he told. About his journey from being a small farm boy, to a bartender in the city, and everything in between.

Clay is not pleased. But he doesn’t say anything.

“You okay? Tell me if I’m talking too much - it might be the cocktails. Rebecca demanded I relax a bit-“

“Yes, I’m okay. And quiet, you’re fine. Tell me more about Desmond.” He pulls her into a quick hug, kisses her on the forehead, and listens with patience. It’s okay. She’s here, not there anymore. As they head to the bedroom for the night, she’s still talking about him. And she doesn’t stop until her head hits the pillow, and she’s out like a light.

The next few months, Lucy’s not around as much. Her new job keeps her busy, running late nights, and sometimes she’s over at Rebecca’s. She’s enjoying herself, that’s all the matters. That’s all Clay really cares about. He tries to keep himself busy, but the days grow slow and he lies around often, pounding headaches keeping him anchored to his apartment. The voices has rose from a quiet murmur to a steady volume, almost as if they were sitting on either side of him and talking.

Constantly talking. Shouting. Crying. Screaming.

He blacks out for the first time in months. The last thing he remembers is watching the Discovery Channel, but now he’s standing in his apartment’s bleak and large stairwell. Someone else is walking and then they’re gone, door shutting loudly behind them. Fingers gripping the rail tightly, he hisses under his breath and turns around, realizing he’s walked down ten flights of stairs before snapping back into it.

“You look like you’re hardly getting any sleep. I’m really sorry for not being around much, you know I want to be here, but- Are you okay?”

He’s been crying.

He blacked out again.

When he woke up, he found blood on his hands.

His own blood.

“No. No, Luce- I’m not.” And he starts to cry again; it’s not pretty, and he can even see it in Lucy’s sky blue eyes, the guilt of not being around, of not being able to help him earlier. “I need you.” He’s weak, he’s tired, and he’s dizzy, his head spinning.

I’m okay.

“I’m right here.” She whispers, wrapping her arms around him, tiny little frame pushed up against his. “I’m not going anywhere.” She shushes him as he buries his face into her shoulder, holding her tightly.

One week later, it happens again. He wakes up in a hospital this time. Lucy’s sitting at the side of his bed, stroking his hand, smiling weakly at him. He wants to stop. He needs to. He’s not sure how much more she can take.

One month later, it happens again. And this time, he doesn’t wake up.

Lucy stands at his grave, eyes filled with tears. “You’re okay now-” Curling her arms around herself, her eyes squeeze shut tightly, her sobs quiet as her body shakes. Without another word, she crumples, sitting on the grass, face buried into her hands with her knees pulled up to her chest. “I’m right here.”

She doesn’t move until the sun falls, and the bitter cold chases her out of the cemetery back to the overwhelming empty apartment. His clothes still lay on the floor, as if he’s not gone at all.


End file.
